The Game of Gods

Chapter 1: The Hidden Hunter

The night was deep, a winter night in Tokyo, the wind carrying a knife-like chill. Ling Chuan dragged his weary body out of the office building, his suit jacket casually draped over his arm, his tie loosely hanging around his neck.

Twenty-two years old, an ordinary university graduate, an ordinary office worker, so ordinary that he would disappear into a crowd in three seconds. He had worked overtime until one in the morning; the last train had long since passed.

He sighed, opened his phone to call a taxi, but found the signal in the area to be extremely poor, and the app kept spinning, which annoyed him. He simply put his phone away and followed a familiar shortcut towards the Yamanote Line station—a route that passed through a small shrine that had supposedly been abandoned for many years.

The torii gate was dilapidated, its paint peeling, and the stone steps were covered in moss. Lingchuan had passed by countless times before, never once considering going in. Tonight was no exception; he simply kept his head down and walked quickly through, his shoes making a soft rustling sound as he stepped over the fallen leaves. Just as he crossed the torii gate…

The world suddenly fell silent. The wind stopped, the chirping of insects ceased, and even the distant sound of traffic seemed to be cut off by an invisible hand. Ling Chuan abruptly looked up. Before him was no longer the familiar stone path, but a massive circular altar. The ground was paved with obsidian-like slabs, their edges engraved with intricate ancient script, emitting a faint, eerie blue light.

The night sky was high and vast, the stars eerily dense, and a blood-red full moon hung high above. He wasn't alone. Around the altar, seventy-six figures, also shrouded in silvery-white light, floated—there were office workers in suits, elderly people in pajamas, girls with brightly colored hair, young mothers holding children… All of them wore the same shock and fear as Ling Chuan.

"Welcome, contestant number 77." A deep, resonant, metallic voice echoed directly in everyone's minds, without direction, yet omnipresent. "This is the testing ground of the 'Gods' Game.' I am the 'Faceless God,' presiding over this war."

There is only one rule: the sole survivor will gain the right to have any wish granted. The rest will be forever condemned to nothingness. "Abilities will be gained through 'plunder' and 'blessing.' Killing an opponent will steal their abilities; completing the trials I designate will grant blessings."

“Now—” The voice paused, as if savoring the fear in the crowd. “The game begins.” Boom! A blinding white light exploded at the center of the altar, and the stone slabs shattered inch by inch. Ling Chuan felt an immense **** lift him up, and he was swept into a pitch-black teleportation portal. The world spun, and the wind howled in his ears. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in a vast, boundless primeval forest.

Moonlight poured down like quicksilver, and towering ancient trees stretched into the sky, their trunks so thick that it would take three people to encircle them. The air was damp and cold, carrying the smell of earth and decaying leaves. A thick layer of fallen leaves lay beneath his feet, making almost no sound as he stepped on them. Ling Chuan looked down at himself: his clothes were still the same wrinkled suit, his tie askew, and his shirt cuffs were stained with coffee from working overtime. But now,

he held a short dagger—pure black, its blade gleaming coldly, a beginner weapon gifted by the system. A semi-transparent interface appeared in the upper left corner of his retina:

【Contestant: Ling Chuan (No. 77)】

【Initial Ability: Conceal Aura (Lv. 1)】 Effect: Greatly reduces one's presence; vision, hearing, and aura perception are all weakened by 50%. The effect is halved when actively attacking or being looked at directly.

Source: A "hidden ability" bestowed by the gods based on the contestant's personality in life.

【Kills: 0】

【Survival Time: 00:02:17】

【Current Survivors: 77/77】

Ling Chuan took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. From a young age, he had always been accustomed to hiding himself—quiet, avoiding the limelight, sitting in the last row of the classroom, in the corner at parties, and always the one at work whose name no one remembered but who still got the job done.

This personality led to an ordinary life in reality, but unexpectedly, in this deadly game, it became his life-saving asset. He gripped his dagger tightly, pressed himself against the tree trunk, and moved forward cautiously.

His concealment was passively activated; his footsteps were as light as a cat's, and he even suppressed his breathing to a minimum. The forest was vast and quiet. Quiet enough to make one's heart race. After walking for about twenty minutes, a sudden explosion came from ahead—a deafening roar, flames shooting into the sky, accompanied by the deafening crash of trees snapping.

Ling Chuan immediately crouched low, using the bushes for cover as he quietly approached. Thirty meters away, a fierce battle was raging in an open area. One side consisted of three men, aged between twenty and thirty. The leader was burly, his palms engulfed in crimson flames, each swing sending up waves of intense heat. The other two, one wielding a crude earth spike and the other hurling crescent-shaped wind blades, had clearly gained rudimentary abilities through combat.

The one being attacked was a woman. She was in her early thirties, her long black hair piled high, exuding a cool and mature aura. Her well-tailored business suit was now torn to shreds; the collar of her white shirt was wide open, revealing a deep cleavage and expanses of snow-white skin.

Her enormous breasts, at least an F-cup, swayed violently with each movement, the heavy weight stretching the fabric taut, as if the remaining buttons might burst open at any moment. Her lower body was even more alluring: semi-transparent black stockings clung tightly to her long, slender legs, the surface reflecting a delicate sheen in the firelight. Several tears revealed the snow-white skin beneath, and the metal buckles of the garter belts were faintly visible.

On her feet were a pair of pointed-toe stiletto boots, the boot shafts extending past her calves. The black leather met the black stockings, outlining a perfect curve. Even in the midst of a life-or-**** struggle, she maintained a steady gait in her ten-centimeter heels. Each turn brought with it the rustling sound of her stockings rubbing against each other, and the high heels clicked crisply on the ground.

Her name was Fujiwara Chikage, and Ling Chuan saw her number on the system interface: No. 41. At this moment, Fujiwara Chikage was fighting three opponents alone, fine beads of sweat beading on her forehead, sliding down her cheeks and dripping into the cleavage of her chest. "Hand over your ability, woman!" The flame man grinned as he approached, flames condensing into a fireball in his palm. "Surrender obediently, and I might let you die a quicker ****!" Fujiwara Chikage sneered, her voice low, husky, and magnetic: "Want me to hand over my ability? Ask the wind blade in my hand if it agrees first."

She raised her hand, a crescent-shaped wind blade condensing in her palm, so sharp it seemed to whistle through the air. Whoosh! The wind blade aimed straight for the flame man's throat. The flame man roared, crossing his arms, flames forming a shield to block it.

The wind blade collided with the flames, exploding into a shower of sparks. The other two seized the opportunity to attack from both sides—the earth spike man pressed his hands to the ground, several sharp earth spikes bursting forth from beneath Fujiwara Chikage's feet; the wind blade man, meanwhile, unleashed three small wind blades from the side, blocking her retreat. Fujiwara Chikage's figure swayed, her high-heeled boots barely touching the ground as she soared into the air, her large breasts heaving violently, creating an alluring arc. She twisted her waist in mid-air, wind-based abilities enveloping her entire body, narrowly avoiding the earth spikes, while simultaneously unleashing an even larger wind blade, shattering all of the wind blade man's attacks. Upon landing, she stomped her heel heavily, using the momentum to spring back up, closing in on the earth spike man.

"Die!" A wind blade grazed the face of the earth spike man at close range, slicing off half of his shoulder. Blood gushed out, staining Fujiwara Chikage's black-stockinged legs. The earth spike man screamed and fell to the ground, but wasn't quite dead yet. The flame man seized the opportunity to pounce, pressing a palm against Fujiwara Chikage's back; the intense heat distorted the air. Fujiwara Chikage sensed something was wrong and forcibly twisted her body, but was still grazed by the heat wave.

Her high-heeled boots sank into the mud, causing her to stumble, and another button on her shirt popped open, completely exposing the edge of her pink lace bra, her snow-white breasts almost bursting out. "Such big breasts..." the flame man licked his lips, his eyes lewd, "It's a pity to kill them, how about playing with them first before killing them?" Fujiwara Chikage's face darkened, and she gritted her teeth, gathering an even larger wind blade. But she was already showing signs of exhaustion, her breathing rapid, her large breasts heaving violently, her shirt soaked with sweat, the outline of her pink areolas faintly visible beneath.

Ling Chuan hid behind the bushes, holding his breath. His ability to conceal his presence was maximized while observing; the three of them didn't even notice someone watching the show ten meters away. He quickly assessed the situation: Fujiwara Chikage was strong, but fighting three against one was ultimately difficult. If the fight continued, she might be killed.

He needed ability. He needed the perfect opportunity to ambush her. The opportunity arrived quickly. The flame man approached Fujiwara Chikage, pressing a palm against her chest, attempting to **** her submission with the intense heat.

The heatwave from the flames whipped her long hair, the hem of her shirt billowed up, revealing her slender waist encased in black stockings and the delicate patterns of her garter belt. Fujiwara Chikage took a step back, her high-heeled boots sinking into the mud, her large breasts heaving even more violently.

Just as the Flame Man grinned smugly—Ling Chuan moved. Like a ghost, he approached the Wind Blade Man from the side and behind, his dagger silently slicing across the man's throat. *Thud!* Warm blood gushed out, splattering onto Ling Chuan's shirt, but without a sound.

The Wind Blade Man didn't even have time to scream before his eyes widened and he collapsed. [Killed Contestant No. 63, gained ability: Low-level Wind Blade] The system notification rang in Ling Chuan's mind. The muffled thud of the falling corpse finally alerted the other two.

"Who?!" the Flame Man roared, turning and unleashing a pillar of fire that swept across the bushes, instantly scorching them. But Ling Chuan had already retreated into the shadows using "Concealed Aura."

The fire pillar only burned the air. Fujiwara Chikage's pupils contracted, and she seized the opportunity to counterattack—she raised her hand, and a sharp wind blade aimed straight for the Earth Spike Man's waist. The Earth Spike Man hastily raised his earth shield, but it couldn't withstand this almost **** attack. *Thud!* The wind blade pierced his flesh, severing the Earth Spike Man at the waist, his upper body flying several meters, his internal organs spilling onto the ground.

The battlefield was instantly reduced to just the Flame Man. His face was ashen as he looked around, but he couldn't pinpoint Ling Chuan's location. "Come out! You rat! If you've got the guts, fight me head-on!" he roared, unleashing fireballs indiscriminately, trying to **** out the invisible enemy. Fireballs exploded, trees ignited, and waves of heat rolled in. But Ling Chuan, like a ghost, circled around to his side.

He raised his hand, and for the first time, a pale blue wind blade appeared in his palm—the ability he had just seized. Whoosh! The wind blade grazed the flame man's ribs, cutting a deep, bone-revealing wound, and blood instantly stained his clothes. The flame man roared in pain, turned, and struck out with his palm, his body protected by flames.

But Ling Chuan had already vanished into the darkness once more. "Damn it! Don't hide if you have the guts!" The flame man was completely enraged, raising his hands high, a huge fireball half a meter in diameter condensing above his head, its intense light illuminating an area of ​​dozens of meters. Fujiwara Chikage took the opportunity to retreat, creating distance, her black-stockinged legs stained with blood and mud, her high-heeled boots creaking on the ground.

She gasped for breath, her eyes searching the darkness: "...Come out, I know you're there. Help me take him down, and we'll split the power." Ling Chuan didn't respond. He circled behind the flame man, gripping his dagger tightly. The flame man was about to hurl a fireball towards Fujiwara Chikage.

Now! Ling Chuan accelerated suddenly. His concealment of his aura was halved when he launched an attack, but it was enough. He pressed close to the flame man's back, his dagger piercing precisely into the man's heart, while simultaneously a wind blade swept across his neck from his palm. *Thud! Thud!* Two wounds erupted almost simultaneously. The flame man's eyes widened, the fireball above his head went out of control, exploding with a deafening roar, but only creating a large crater in the spot where it landed—Ling Chuan and Fujiwara Chikage had already retreated.

The flame man collapsed to his knees, blood gushing from his mouth. [Slay contestant No. 55, gained ability: Low-level Flame Control]

[Slay contestant No. 62, ability duplicated, no new ability gained] System notifications sounded continuously. The flame man fell completely, his body consumed by the flames and burned to a crisp. The entire battle, from Ling Chuan's intervention to its end, lasted less than two minutes. Yet, it was eerily quiet. Fujiwara Chikage leaned against an ancient tree that hadn't been burned, panting heavily. Her black-stockinged legs were covered in mud, blood, and bits of grass; several larger gashes revealed her snow-white skin, and the garter belts on her inner thighs were clearly visible.

The tips of her high-heeled boots were stained with the enemy's blood, gleaming with a dark red light; four buttons of her shirt were undone, almost completely exposing her pink lace bra. Her large breasts heaved violently with her rapid breathing, her cleavage so deep it could hold one's gaze. Sweat trickled down her neck, dampening the fabric and faintly revealing the outlines of her pink nipples. She warily scanned her surroundings and whispered, "...Come out. I'm not your enemy." In the darkness, Ling Chuan partially deactivated his "concealment aura" and slowly emerged.

Moonlight bathed him, revealing a few drops of blood on his handsome face. His white shirt was soaked with sweat and blood, vaguely revealing the muscular chest of a young man. He clutched the bloodstained dagger in his hand, his eyes eerily calm. Fujiwara Chikage sized him up, her gaze shifting from wariness to complexity, even a hint of admiration. "Thank you."

Her voice was low and husky, with the magnetism of a mature woman, "If it weren't for you, I might not have made it this far." Ling Chuan shook his head, his voice calm: "It was just mutual exploitation. I need the ability, you need to live." He took a few steps closer, his gaze involuntarily sweeping over her beautiful legs in black stockings—the stockings were torn even more thoroughly in the battle, the skin at the base of her thighs was dazzlingly white, and the metal buckles of the garter belts gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

Fujiwara Chikage noticed his gaze, a slight smile playing on her lips. Instead of hiding it, she puffed out her chest, making her large breasts appear even more impressive, the flesh trembling slightly beneath her tattered shirt. "Little brother, what are you trying to do, staring at my legs?"

She deliberately took a step forward, her high-heeled boots clicking crisply on the fallen leaves, her black-stockinged thighs almost touching Ling Chuan's trouser leg. Ling Chuan's Adam's apple bobbed as he looked away: "...The noise from the fight is too loud and might attract other people. Let's find a safe place first."

Fujiwara Chikage chuckled, reaching out to pinch Lingchuan's chin. Her slender fingers, still warm from the battle, **** him to look up and meet her gaze. Her face was inches away, her exquisite features eerily beautiful in the moonlight, her red lips slightly parted, her breath carrying a faint fragrance.

"Your ability just now... was it a stealth type, right? It's rare, and very dangerous." Ling Chuan didn't deny it. Fujiwara Chikage's fingers slid down his chin to his neck, stopping at his Adam's apple and gently caressing it. Her nails scraped against his skin, bringing a tingling sensation. "My name is Fujiwara Chikage, a wind-type ability user. Now, are we teammates?"

Her voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable ****. Ling Chuan looked into her deep eyes, smelled the scent of blood, sweat, and a mature woman's perfume on her, and his heart raced slightly. "A temporary collaboration."

He finally spoke, "Okay." Fujiwara Chikage withdrew her hand with satisfaction and turned to lead the way. Her steps were elegant, her high-heeled boots clicking rhythmically on the fallen leaves, her black-stockinged legs swaying gracefully in the moonlight, the side profile of her large breasts trembling slightly with each step, and the hem of her tattered shirt lifting in the wind to reveal her slender waist and shapely buttocks encased in black stockings.

Ling Chuan followed behind, his gaze lingering on her taut hips and long legs, silently activating "Concealment" to minimize their presence. Behind them, the burning trees crackled, the smell of charred corpses wafting in the wind. On the system interface, the number of survivors had changed to 74/77. The first night of the God's Game was still long. This night, they needed to survive. And Ling Chuan knew that the real plunder had only just begun.